


Les Belle Dames Sans Merci

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Rathbone films)
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Community: watsons_woes, Crack, Gen, Prompt Fic, Roller Derby, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Nobody expects a bleach-blonde bomber with a streak of mean.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	Les Belle Dames Sans Merci

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #11, **Over the Ropes:** Watson's rugby-playing past is several times alluded to in canon. Write about a sporting woe for Watson, whether related to rugby or roller derby or something else.

"My dear old fellow."

The last voice I'd expected to hear joining mine in this foul alley. I'd gone looking for him, and he found me instead.

I struggled to sit up. Everything hurt, and I couldn't see out of my right eye. "Holmes. How did you…?"

"Moriarty really needs to hire better muscle-men. I eluded two ruffians' attention long enough to slip my bonds and pick the lock on the freezer door. If those brutes have any survival instinct at all they're halfway to France by now rather than wait for the Professor to execute them." The hand helping me upright bore a raw mark on its wrist, the unmistakable stamp of handcuffs; we'd both had a bad night of it at the Professor's hands.

Holmes never said a word of reproof as he steadied me while I staggered to my feet. "Poor chap. You look as if you've taken on an army."

Tell the whole thing. It'll make him laugh, he likes it when I make him laugh. "I did. Amazons. A gang of women. At least ten of them. Young, muscular. Padded helmets and armour on their knees and elbows. On roller skates of all things, but sure-footed as cavalry horses."  
  
Holmes stilled and his whole face lit up. "A roller derby team?"

"I don't think they were a team. Some wore team jerseys, but none of them matched."

"None?" The bizarre nature of the attack had engaged his brain, and it whirled through the possibilities as he mused aloud. "Then possibly like-minded individual players selected from different teams to make an amoral squad at his command. His muscle-men are subpar, but muscle-women…? Moriarty can pay ten times what they get in the arena; that could easily be a factor as well. Those women are well-trained, powerful, they have stamina, and are merciless fighters." Holmes caught himself and looked at my injuries once more. His eyes narrowed. "Did they exploit your chivalric aversion to striking women?"

I smiled; this, I was 100% unashamed about. "I don't strike _ladies_ , Holmes. But _soldiers_ who happen to be women are another matter. I'm still a bit of a boxer; I laid four of them low before their numbers got the best of me."

He laughed, his eyes shining. "Good old Watson." His eyes became distant again. "He's planning something special with them, Watson, mark my words. This could be the reason other branches of his immediate empire are weaker – the idiots who were to guard me, for instance. Your unfortunate encounter has given me clay with which I may make a few useful bricks." He clapped my shoulder and winced.

Not useless after all.

I stilled his hand with both of mine, bruised knuckles and all. "Let's go home, old man. I can tend those galls on your wrists and put a beefsteak on my eye while you sort this out."

He nodded. "Stay close, Watson. If we run into any more women on roller skates I'll need your fists."


End file.
